


The Pinch Hitter

by JOBrien42



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JOBrien42/pseuds/JOBrien42
Summary: Josh Lyman is on his own, trying to get another longshot candidate elected to the White House, but this time, he remembers he has friends who can help.  Sam Seaborn to the rescue, not just helping Matt Santos, but also helping two of his best friends work their way past the gulf that's divided them.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 79
Kudos: 117





	1. the Call Up

Sam’s flight into Manchester had been long and uncomfortable and way too damn early in the morning. As he drove his rental down to Nashua, he found himself not entirely sure how he let Josh talk him into once again uprooting his life to brave the brisk New Hampshire cold for an upstart campaign. 

The view of the rented out storefront gave him a wave of nostalgia and a greater sense of apprehension. This was going to be harder. There would be no Toby or CJ. No Leo, with all his experience and connections.

Well, he thought, it was graduation day. TIme to see what they could do on their own.

He pushed his way into the former sporting goods store, lugging his suitcase and garment bag in with him. 

“Hi,” said a young woman with short dark hair by way of greeting. “If you’re looking to interview Mr. Lyman about the campaign, he’s out at the moment…”

Sam blinked. “That’s… no, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh,” she said, looking slightly more hopeful. “Are you here to volunteer for the campaign?”

“Volunteer?” Sam asked, looking around at a space that seemed at once sparse and cluttered. “Oh, not exactly. My name is Sam Seaborn. Josh asked me to come by?”

“Ah!” the woman said, understanding. “Mr. Lyman went to meet with the Russell campaign, but we expect him back shortly. I can take you to the desk he’s using upstairs if you’d like to wait for him there, Mr. Seaborn.”

“Sam,” he said, reflexively. He’d had more than enough Mr. Seaborn in the office in California. 

“It’s funny,” she said. “Mr. Lyman does the same thing. He insists he’s just ‘Josh’ but we can’t call the Congressman ‘Matt’. I’m Ronna, by the way. I’ve been with the Congressman for years.” There was a slight hesitation around her using his title. She was still learning.

“Well, Ronna,” Sam said, “hold onto your hat, ‘cause this is a whole ‘nother ball game.”

Sam got himself situated in what could only charitably be called Josh’s office, lost among the sporting equipment, and again reflected on the ridiculous chain of events that had led him back to this place. He’d been satisfied in the private sector. At least, he wasn’t indemnifying mega-corporations from their environmentally destructive choices this time, and the firm was doing work he could be proud of. But when he’d answered the phone, even though he hadn’t been able to see Josh’s face, he could hear in his friend’s voice that once again that he’d found the Real Thing. 

In the face of that, Sam hadn’t known how to say no.

He looked over Josh’s desk, but it was pretty sparse. There hadn’t been much time to develop his characteristic clutter yet, just a couple files, an expense report and a Mike Piazza autographed baseball that Donna had gotten him for Christmas a few years back. He glanced at the documents, but knew he needed to hear from Josh for them to make sense. He found himself yawning, and realized that sleep was about to become very precious. He sat in the chair and laid his head on his folded arms, and fell asleep.

He woke to the sound of heavy impact somewhere behind him and a guttural, incoherent curse erupting from the throat of his friend, followed by a series of smaller impacts as the ball bounded back from where it had been hurled.

“Josh!” Sam exclaimed, leaping from the chair.

Josh looked over, but didn’t seem to recognize him for a moment. “Sam?”

“What the hell, man?” Sam asked, but as he pulled himself to full consciousness, he saw the distress in his friend’s face. “Are you ok?”

Sam watched Josh square his shoulders and steel himself. 

“I’m fine,” he said after he’d pulled himself together. “Just… I didn’t see you there. I’m glad you came.” 

Josh walked over and hugged his friend. It lasted a little longer and was a little tighter than expected.

“Rough meeting with the Russell team? Did Will try to sell you that it’s time to give mediocrity a try’?

Josh shrugged. “Just wanted an agreement on a clean campaign.” His voice was tense as he plopped himself down in his chair.

Sam grunted skeptically. “And you said?”

“That I’d take it to the Congressman,” was the abrupt answer.

Sam walked over and picked up the ball still rolling slowly across the floor. “And that pissed you off enough to throw your prized Piazza signed ball? Josh, what happened?”

Josh made a noncommittal noise and pulled one of the folders from the desk and began to leaf through the contents. 

“Josh.”

It was pretense, Sam knew. He’d seen Josh go over briefing memos twice as thick in half the time he’d spent with his eyes glued to a single page.

“Work with me here,” Sam said. “I just took leave of another lucrative position and flew three thousand miles for you, but it’s not going to do any good if you’re going to keep me in the dark. I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”

“‘All’s fair in love and war’,” Josh quoted, almost too quietly to make out.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam said.

“It’s nothing, Sam,” Josh answered. “Will got me off my game, threw me a curveball I wasn’t expecting. I just need to dust myself off and get back in there.”

Sam looked to the ball in his hand. “Well,” he said evenly, “if he’s going to play rough - at a meeting asking for a clean campaign - it would help to know what sort of tactics he’s employing against us.”

“Against me,” Josh said, his eyes distant. “And don’t worry about it. I won’t let her, er, won't let it get to me again.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Won’t let who get to you?”

“I meant ‘it’, the situation,” Josh tried to clarify. 

“You said ‘her’.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I said that,” Josh said unconvincingly.

“Yes you do,” Sam said, his voice firm and direct. “What happened at the campaign office, Josh?”

Josh was startled by the steel in his friend’s tone. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “He asked if a deputy could sit in.”

“And?”

“And I said it was his meeting. I didn’t - I never even considered it would be…”

“Who was it, Josh?” Sam demanded.

“It was Donna,” Josh said.

Sam handed Josh the baseball. “You should be more careful with this. You wouldn’t want to ruin its value.”

“Never,” Josh said, cradling it in his hands. “It will always be valuable.”

“Yeah.” A grim smile formed on Sam’s face. “I know.” And then he turned and headed purposefully down the stairs, pausing only to ask Ronna for the address of Russell’s campaign office.

Less than a minute later he was out the door, moving quickly.


	2. The Opposition's Dugout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna has some questions for Will. Sam visits Russell's Headquarters.

Will and Donna were seated at his desk, eating from styrofoam containers from a local greasy spoon. 

“Salad not working for you?” Will said as he watched his deputy prod the mixed greens with her plastic fork. “You can have my fries, if you want.”

“No!” Donna answered quickly, with more vehemence that she intended. “No. Thanks, anyway.”

“Sure,” Will said, trying to diffuse the sudden tension. 

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Donna asked the question that had been plaguing her all day. “Did I pass?”

“I’m sorry?” Will responded, confused.

“Did I pass the test?” she repeated. “That’s what that was about earlier, wasn’t it? Making sure I wouldn’t fall apart if I ran into… into Josh.”

“You thought I was testing you?” Will asked, his emphasis on the last word. 

“Well, yes,” Donna answered, doubt creeping in. “You didn’t tell me you were meeting him, you just called me in. And you did ask me if you were poaching me in our interview.”

“Yes I did. And if you’ll recall, I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to kill me for it.” 

“I guess I don’t understand what that was about, then.” Donna said. 

“You really don’t, do you?” Will said. 

“No.” She remembered Casey Reed saying that working with Josh had been like an M.A. in power-broking, but she really couldn’t fathom what Will’s intentions had been. She’d never seen Josh do anything like it.

“Okay,” Will said. “I know you’re good at this. And I expect you’re going to be even better as the campaign builds momentum. You’re in the big leagues now, Donna. And we play to win.”

“I’m sorry. I still don’t think I understand. If springing Josh on me wasn’t to test my resolve, then what-?”

“He wasn’t springing Josh on you,” came a voice she hadn’t heard in well over half a year, but was still very dear to her. “He was springing you on Josh.”

“Sam!” she exclaimed, rising to her feet.

“I’m sorry, Mr Bailey,” apologized the young secretary trailing behind Sam Seaborn. “He asked if you were in and then he was past me before I could stop him.

“Sam,” Will said, evenly. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Come to volunteer?”

“That’s funny,” Sam replied, his voice cold. “I didn’t know that you still had your step-sister around, punching up your jokes.”

“I find I can manage on my own, thanks.”

“This campaign is certainly a good indication,” Sam said. “God, I thought, when I told Toby you were one - this isn’t running a dead guy for a solid Republican seat in Orange County, this is the Presidency! How can you sit here and pretend this is a good idea?”

“I’m running the guy hand-picked by the President to replace him,” Will snarled.

“You’re running the guy thrown on a list by Jeff Haffley to make sure the Democrats lost the White House, and who President Bartlet only accepted because he was still reeling from his daughter's kidnapping.”

“Regardless of the circumstances,” Will said, rising to his feat and squaring his shoulders, “the Vice-President was trusted to be there to fill in for a man with a serious degenerative disease. And beyond that, he’s the only logical choice in this race, with the name recognition and the money to compete with the Republicans. Unless you’re working for John Hoynes. In that case, good luck running the candidate who blabbed national secrets to his mistress!”

Sam stared at him, his face an emotionless mask.

Will continued. “No, you wouldn’t work for Hoynes, would you? You’re here to tilt at windmills with Don Quixote de la Lyman. Fine. Let’s do this. Me against two of Bartlet’s finest, and may the best man win.”

“May the best candidate win,” Sam corrected him. “And I promise you, there is no universe where the answer to that is Bingo Bob Russell.”

Sam turned to leave. Before exiting, he spoke again. “You may have been under the impression that Josh was the designated hitter for the Bartlet administration. You’re about to find that Josh is the nice one compared to me. I’m coming off the bench, and if you pull another stunt like you did today, I will run you over without breaking stride.”

He pushed past the secretary and headed out.

Will stood there, clenching his fists, but Donna found herself chasing after Sam, just as she’d followed Josh earlier in the day.

“Sam, wait!” she called.

He paused long enough for her to catch up. “Hello, Donna. I see you’re doing well.”

“Are you really working for Jo- for Santos?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

“Josh asked me to come,” he said, noting the way Donna flinched slightly at the name.

She looked crestfallen. “Oh,” she said. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t wish you well.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t exactly counting on a floral arrangement.” He began to walk away. “But it’s nice to see you.”

He’d only taken a few steps before the question burst from her lips. “What did you mean? When you said Will was springing me on Josh?”

Sam turned around and returned to her. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a tight hug. “What are you doing, Donna?”

She returned the hug, before pulling back. “I don’t know what you mean?”

"The two of you are idiots, you know that?" Sam said, his voice tinged with sadness and frustration. "My best friend is back at Headquarters trying to stitch up the hole in his heart from seeing you today. And he's going to try to lock it away because he now knows just how hard this is going to be with you on the other side."

“Sam…” she started.

"And he knows even THAT won't work, because he already gave his heart to you a long time ago."

“That’s not how it is. He never… he said it wasn’t a thing.”

Sam sighed. “Like I said. Idiots. I’ll see you around, Donna.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter owes a large debt to electric_eel...


	3. The Game Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Ronna talk, and strategize.

It was a couple days later, and the days hadn’t been kind. The Congressman’s discussion about education reform had been leaked, raising the ire of the citizens of New Hampshire, and his quote about the lack of diversity in the state had just been weaponized by Doug Westin against them in an attempted photo op at the Fickle Pickle. 

Despite that, he found that he quite liked Matt Santos, and he could see what Josh saw in him. He was a skilled politician. He had ambitious goals for the country, but was willing to strike deals to make incremental progress in pursuit of them.

Sam had written what he thought were some very good remarks for the Congressmen to give at the senior center to cover for the Mayflower quote, only to find that the state’s oldest voter had passed away, another lost opportunity. He’d returned to the office to go over some of the speeches Joey Lucas had pulled up in her research, to become better acquainted with his candidate’s positions as well as his manner of speech. He looked up as Santos, Ronna and Josh returned from a campaigning outing.

“All hail the conquering heroes!” Sam quipped as they entered. “How’d it go?”

“I think I’ve spoken to about a hundred fifty residents of this fine state,” Santos said, somewhat ruefully. “Only one million, three hundred ten thousand, eight hundred and fifty to go.”

“Whatever it takes to beat expectations, right Josh?” Sam said.

“What?” Josh asked, distracted. “Oh, yeah. I’m gonna go up and review the, um, schedule.”

Santos rolled his eyes. “Are we still using secret signs and code words among our own staff? C’mon, Josh., you’ve been looking like your dog died since the Russell team pulled the stunt with the letters. I really don’t think it’s that big of a deal, and I don’t think I need another lecture about...”

“I meant by myself, Congressman. No signs, no code words.” Josh looked exhausted, but to Sam’s trained eye it was more than that. He watched his friend slowly ascend the stairs to the second floor. 

Ronna waited until Congressman Santos had gone off to talk to Ned about the campaign literature, and then approached Sam.

“You’ve known Mr. Lyman - Josh - for a long time, right?”

“You could say that,” Sam smiled. “I was an intern in Congressman Jensen’s office, and Josh was the staffer who was assigned to showing me the ropes. He was only a couple years older, but he was almost compulsive about teaching me everything he knew. We ended up rooming together for several months, and then he came and dragged me onto the original Bartlet campaign.”

“And now he’s done it again. Dragged you on to another campaign.” Ronna looked a little perplexed. “Forgive me for saying this, but he doesn’t seem like the most fun person to live with. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so serious. Even his jokes are cold.”

“That,” Sam said, vaguely pointing up the stairs, “isn’t really Josh, not the one I know. He’s still an All-Star, and there’s no one I’d trust more to manage this campaign. But he’s off his game right now, and if I have to pitch hit until he finds his swing again, that’s what I’m going to do.”

Ronna rolled her eyes. “What is it with men and sports metaphors?”

Sam laughed. “Sorry. Old habits. One day I’ll tell you about how Josh’s big plan to get Mike Piazza to call him ‘dude’ got derailed by a filibuster by Howard Stackhouse. We’d probably still be there if Donna hadn’t picked up-”

“Donna?”

“Yeah. Josh’s old assistant, Donna Moss.” Sam said. “She was watching the B-roll and…”

“Tall, blonde, pretty?” Ronna asked. “Working for the Vice President now?” 

Sam nodded, slowly, his suspicion growing. “Why do you ask?”

“We ran into her, outside the thing today. Josh introduced us and then they went off to talk. There was so much tension between them, I knew they had a history.”

“Well, that explains the retreat to his desk,” Sam sighed. 

“So, what happened?” Ronna. “Bad breakup?”

Sam sighed. “One thing you really need to know about Josh is that he would never, ever date his assistant. It’s a line he wouldn’t dream about crossing. He would never do that to someone, particularly someone with as much promise as Donna.”

“He looked at her like she broke his heart, though.”

“She did,” Sam said, his voice tinged with sadness. “And as I understand it, in a lot of ways he broke hers too. Because the other thing you need to know is that those two have probably been in love since they met here in New Hampshire eight years ago.”

“Oh,” said Ronna softly. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story,” Sam replied, “and a short campaign, if we don’t get to work.”

“So give me the Cliff’s Notes version,” Ronna said. “C’mon, Sam, I was starting to think Mr. Lyman was this robot fueled by coffee and anger, and now you tell me there’s this whole different side to him. I really think I’d like to meet the Josh you know.”

“I should warn you - he can still be an acquired taste,” Sam admitted, “but there’s no one you’d rather have on your team - as your friend - than Josh Lyman.”

“Then what do we do?” Ronna asked. “How do we get that Josh back?”

“Teamwork,” Sam said. “Can you get me reservations for three at Fratello’s for 8:30?”

Ronna stared at him. “We’re supposed to be at the Hawk's house at 7.”

“I know. It’ll be fine. Trust me,” said Sam as he pulled out his cell phone and hit one of the programmed numbers. “Donna, hey. I wanted to apologize for how brusque I was the other night, and I’d love to catch up and make things right. Can you meet me tonight at Fratello’s? Around 8:30? Great!”

Ronna laughed. “I think I’m going to like working with you, Sam Seaborn.”


	4. And Here's the Pitch...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's puts his plan into action.

“I’m not sure we should be leaving the Congressman alone with the Hawk's and their friends,” Josh said, unease in his voice. “You really haven’t seen him really go.”

“It’ll be fine,” Sam said. “You got through to him - he was explaining why education is important to him, and they were really listening. Besides, this meeting is more important.”

“But you can’t tell me anything more than it will revolutionize our campaign?”

“Nope,” Sam said brightly.

Josh stared out into the night. “I hate surprises.”

“You’ll like this one,” Sam insisted as he pulled into the restaurant parking lot.

“Fratello’s?” Josh asked. “You round up a new donor? Please tell me you didn’t arrange for us to eat with Doug and Liz as some sort of detente after the Fickle Pickle incident.”

“Will you just trust me for once?”

Josh frowned, knowing that Sam had given up a lot to be there. “Fine.”

The two exited Sam’s rental, passed through the doors and approached the hostess. 

“Seaborn, table for three,” Sam said.

“The other member of your dinner party is waiting for you,” she replied, leading them through the mostly empty restaurant where the glow of blonde hair was visible over the menu their other companion was reading. Donna looked up as she heard them approach. 

“Sam!” they both exclaimed, in nearly the same tone.

“I can’t-” Josh said.  
“This is a terrible idea,” Donna said.

“That’s a load of crap, both of you” Sam answered them both, cutting off their objections. “Eight years. For almost eight years you two have been as close as anything. You’ve laughed together, cried together, celebrated together and mourned together. And you’re going to throw it all away because you’ve forgotten how to talk with each other?

“Look, Elizabeth Bartlet-Westin just donated to us. When I signed on, the articles switched from Josh Lyman’s vanity project to asking if Matt Santos is the next Jed Bartlet. We’re not going anywhere, so you two are going to see each other, and I’m not going to let you pretend that you hate each other when you do.” 

Sam grabbed Josh by the elbow and led him to the table. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around to circumvent this when it happened. I’m going to make up for that, starting now. Because I love you both, and you both still love each other whether you want to admit it or not, and we’re going to sit here and eat a lovely meal and drink some fine wine - but not too much - and we’re going to talk and reminisce and get past the guilt and recriminations and remember just how important we all are to each other. Now sit.”

Sam had guided Josh to the chair furthest from the exit, and then placed himself in the remaining seat. 

They perused their menus for a few minutes.

“Well, the roasted vegetable salmon sounds delightful,” Sam said, breaking the silence. “What are you thinking, Donna?”

“I was just going to get the spinach salad, with grilled chicken,” she said, her eyes glued to the menu.

“The steakburger looks good, if I can get them to cook it right,” Josh added. “And fries, of course.”

Sam gave him a direct look. “What makes you think you’re getting french fries?”

“C’mon, Sam! I didn’t bring you in to be my dietician,” Josh argued. “Besides, Donna’s going to eat half of ‘em anyway, so it’s not that bad.”

There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he glanced over at her. Sam noted her eyes widened even as she pretended to read.

“How about the broiled haddock, with steamed broccoli instead,” Sam offered. Across the table, unseen by Josh, Donna made a slight nod of approval.

“If I’m eating the haddock, I’m having french fries.” Josh said adamantly.

“You need some vegetables, with actual vitamins,” Sam insisted.

“I’m not five years old, Sam,” Josh whined. “I can order for myself. And I want french fries.”

Donna spoke up, hesitatingly. “He could have some of my salad, and I...”

“Yeah!” Josh said, “She gets half my fries and I’ll eat some salad. Will that make you happy?”

“You have no idea how much,” Sam said, smiling, before suddenly grabbing his phone and bringing it to his ear. “Sam Seaborn.”

“What is it?” Josh asked, concerned.

Sam covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “It’s Ronna. Things are going really well at the Hawk’s. Looks like some more folks have stopped by, and the Congressman’s ready to go a couple more hours, but she’s got a headache and asked if I could take her back to the motel.”

“I can go…” Josh started, but there was a hint of regret in his voice.

“No, it’s fine. It shouldn’t take too long. You kids enjoy your date.”

After he left, Josh looked over at Donna somewhat apologetically. “I really don’t know what’s gotten into Sam.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I kinda like it. At least I know he’s not going to let you eat nothing but junk.”

Josh seemed to be taken aback by the sentiment. He grunted. “Like I would bring you to an Italian restaurant for our first date,” he said, mostly to himself.

It was Donna’s turn to be startled. “Why not? It’s pretty romantic. Candlelight. Soft music.”

“It’s a cliche. If I wanted cliche I could have been the lecherous boss chasing after his beautiful young secretary,” Josh said. He coughed, embarrassed. “I mean, back when it seemed like, y’know, you felt something. When you wouldn’t stop for red lights.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“I’m sure I’ve told you before.”

“You haven’t. I would have remembered,” Donna said. “You’ve told me when I’ve looked great in a dress. You once told me that I looked amazing. You’ve never told me I’m beautiful.”

“You really are,” Josh insisted. “And you’re really good at this. I probably never told you that, either.”

“Oh,” she said, a soft blush appearing on her cheeks. “Thank you.”

Josh looked down to his plate, and the piece of complimentary bread on it.

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“I still wouldn’t.”

“Huh?”

Donna reached across the table and took Josh’s hand. “I still wouldn’t stop for red lights.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indebted to kcat1971 for large sections of this chapter. there will be an epilogue to wrap it up, but I haven't been in the mood to write it yet. 
> 
> please vote.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pair of discussions in Iowa

“Can you hold the elevator?” Josh yelled ahead at the slowly closing doors. There was a second and the doors slid back open.

Sam, walking next to him but a little more observant than his friend, slowed his pace. “You go ahead. I need to stop by the business center.”

“Suit yourself,” Josh said, and stepped quickly into the waiting elevator and nearly into Donna, who looked at him with a shy smile.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey yourself,” Josh replied, a somewhat silly grin spreading across his face. “Um, can you hit four?”

Donna looked at him, then down at the already lit number. His eyes followed hers.

“Ah.” Josh fidgeted for a moment. “How was… South Carolina?”

“Southern,” she said. “But we’re catching up to Hoynes.”

“Yeah?” Josh replied, more an acknowledgement than a question. “Where’d you stay?”

“The Marriott,” Donna answered.

“Nice pool.”

"That's what it looked like,” she said. “Josh, should we… is this against the rules?”

Josh smiled. “This is just normal operative talk. I could be having the same conversation with Will.”

“If you were staring at him like you are at me right now, the press would have a field day.”

“And you’d be terribly jealous?” Josh asked hopefully.

“Now that,” Donna said, reprovingly, “is a question I know I can’t answer without breaking the rules.”

The elevator doors opened to the fourth floor and they made their way down the hall. They both laughed when they saw their rooms were directly across from each other.

“So… yours or mine?” Josh asked.

“Yours,” Donna said. “At least I know I can successfully open my door at quarter to six tomorrow morning to go take a shower.”

She opened her hotel door and went in and placed most of her luggage on the bed. 

Josh hovered in the doorframe, watching her. “We could… y’know… share the shower.”

“We tried that in New Hampshire and we were both half an hour late,” Donna pointed out. “And I don’t want to have people staring at me at the morning staff meeting again.”

“Well, Sam was happy for us.” Josh pointed out.

“The rules, Josh,” Donna reminded him. “No talking about that until we’re in private.”

With that, she took his key card and deftly opened his door. Josh dragged his own luggage inside and stashed it in a corner.

“The thing is,” Josh began, “now that we’re in private I don’t think I feel much like talking.” He strode over to Donna and, after slipping the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle, closed the door behind them.

Donna put her arms around his neck and kissed him thoroughly. “Talking can definitely wait.”

\---

“I don’t suppose you can recommend to Santos that he forgo the ethanol pledge?” Will asked.

“I’m still not entirely sure he won’t. He still has a tendency to call his own plays,” Sam laughed. “Hoynes won’t take it. We could pull an absolute stunner if we all just agreed that the promise of ethanol has never been more than a fools’ errand and that we promise to work with Iowa to create real economic growth.”

“I’ll take it. We’d all lose to Tripplehorn and Clarkson here, but it would play well nationally, especially in New Hampshire.” Will took a long sip of coffee. The two of them were sitting in the dining room of the hotel. “You know, after that night in my Nashua office, I much prefer meetings like this.”

“I’m not going to apologize for that,” Sam said, seriously. “Maybe to the poor intern I blew past. I don’t like when people mess with my friends.”

“Yeah, that was a bad call on my part,” Will confessed. “I wasn’t sure what to make of Josh quitting to run Santos. It didn’t feel like vanity, and if he’d wanted Hoynes he could’ve run that campaign. I went too far trying to dangle Donna in front of him like that - I was hoping to show him the advantages of working for the Vice President.”

“As well as using her as a shield against the worst of Bartlet’s Bulldog,” Sam noted, coldly.

“I’m not proud of it, but yeah. I figured I’d get Josh off his game, let Santos’s headstrong nature get him in trouble, and I was hoping we could get past the whole thing by South Carolina.”

“And now?” Sam asked.

“You joining the team definitely changed the equation. Two-fifths of Santos’s senior staff pulling for one guy moved the needle even more than I expected. We’re still gonna take you in New Hampshire by fifteen, but I can already see the anti-Russell’s consolidating around Santos, even as we split the anti-Hoynes vote.” 

Sam nodded. “I’ve also been trying to convince Josh to bring Mandy Hampton on board for messaging. That would give us half the original Bartlet ‘98 All-Star team.”

“Could you, please? Donna’s told me some stories.” Will joked. “You know, I had some concerns at first, but whatever’s happening between those two isn’t affecting her performance at all. She’s exceeded every expectation I had for her.”

“With eight years of unresolved tension to work through, it’ll be awhile before they worry about something as mundane as the Democratic primary.”

Will sighed. “Speaking of which, where are they?”

“In negotiations,” Sam said, coughing delicately. 

\---

“Did Sam really want to bring Mandy back?” Donna asked, snuggling next to Josh under the covers.

“Yeah,” he said with a shudder. “I mean, I see his point in the optics of having another member of the ‘98 Dream Team, but there’s no way I was letting her anywhere near the Congressman.”

“Good,” Donna said, firmly.

“Besides, there’s only one person from Bartlet’s first campaign I’d want.”

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“You,” he said, completely serious. “You’d be way better than Mandy.”

“Oh,” Donna said. She blushed, before swatting him in his arm. “Hey, no work talk when we’re in private!”

“Sorry,” he said, pulling her closer to him. “I just miss you.”

“And I miss you too,” she said. “But we don’t have to miss each other right now, so stop worrying about tomorrow and kiss me.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to be on a "Sam isn't going to put up with Josh and Donna's foolishness any longer" kick.
> 
> many thanks to ABSea, kcat1971 and SeaDog11 for helping this along, and credit to ABSea for the title.


End file.
